It'd been awhile since she and prince had come back down to the Earthen Furnace. While it may have been the second most miserable place she'd been during her dungeon diving adventures - first being that horrific slime chute that nearly killed her brother and friend, but she digresses - there was a fondness for this place she couldn't always articulate. Of course, this was where she'd met the sire to her firstborn, and she knew that they too found a solace here in these molten caverns. She often found that if you paused long enough, ignored the molten dragonbats trying to burn you, and stood in place for a peaceful moment that this inferno was... beautiful.

She did so now, having found a drifting bit of dried magma that offered a lazy carriage down the stream. Prince didn't appreciate it here and therefore missed out on the view, but Rustica's eyes were wide and greedy. Orange and yellow fountains of magma poured from higher levels into the river, glistening like melted gold. The intensity of the lava's hue darkened the stones into a deep plum, their shadows abyssal and cool. Fluttering dragonbats offered sparkling trails in the high, shadowed ceilings, emerging from long decrepit ruins abandoned in bygone years. A smile broke upon the mare's muzzle, her lids lowering in contentment as she is lulled by the natural hum of the volcanic region.

Beneath her the magma roils to life, and she is forced towards the center of her shelf of rock to avoid any unfortunate accidents. Her eyes watch as the molten river bubbles, crests, and moves about in a fashion she'd yet to witness herself. Before she has a moment to try and comprehend what could possibly be happening, a shaft of lave shoots from the river. It is writhing, almost serpentine, and dives into a pool off to the right. It's long form seems to go on and on, until a spined, slender tail emerges like a whip, before disappearing in the adjacent pool. Rustica murmurs in amazement, toeing her way toward the edge of her impromptu barge. She'd seen small wyrms here before - hell, been robbed by them. Was that some ancient ancestor of theirs? The smile on her face intensifies so that it hurts, and she cannot help but utter, "Prince, did you see that?"

When she looks to her packs, the mole is just popping it's head from beneath the flap to tap his little hands upon the seam. Guess he didn't get to see it afterall.